


Beauty To Die For

by Jupiterra



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1920s, F/M, Gangsters, One Shot, RusAme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 16:04:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12485468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiterra/pseuds/Jupiterra
Summary: Ivan Braginsky is a 1920's gangster, and has his eyes on a real prize: Amelia Jones





	Beauty To Die For

The bar was dimly lit, jazzy music as thick as the haze of cigarettes. Characters of all shady manner inhabited this poorly lit haunt, ranging from lost souls to killers. There was no judgment or accusative glares here, for everyone was guilty.

Among the small groups, a rare flower was in bloom. It was Lady Jones, a real class act. She was normally on the arm of Arthur Kirkland, a fastidious gangster that ruled these parts. Even approaching the golden haired beauty was a death wish, personally granted by her murderous British master. To see Lady Jones alone at the bar, it was more concerning than ever.

Only one man in the room was brave enough, or foolish enough, to even look upon the American beauty. Violet eyes analyzed her every movement from a dark corner. Several people took notice and inched away in their seats. Still, Ivan Braginsky did not take heed. Lady Jones was in a ravishing red dress, her fur trimmed caplet and hat as elegant as they were practical.

He had to have her. The infamous Russian assassin was rarely denied what he desired, a rising star in the criminal underworld.

The tall Russian stood from his corner chair, sauntering over to the female figure. The bar stools on either side had been evacuated the moment she sat down, as if she were a bomb ready to explode. The risk involved only motivated the beige haired killer further. He lived for adrenaline and risk.

Sitting next to Lady Jones at the counter, he waved down a petrified server. “Yes, sir?” the female bartender asked softly. “Vodka on the rocks, along with whatever Miss Jones desires.” he ordered curtly, casting a grin at his new target. “A southside if you would” Jones requested with a demure smile.

Served quickly, the pair looked at each other, birds of prey among pigeons. Lady Jones was first to break the ice with a sultry greeting, “How kind of you, I was feeling thirsty.” “Not a problem, a woman of your quality shouldn't drink alone.” Ivan flirted with ease. Her sharp blue eyes met his, like a flash of lightning, then glanced away.

“I suppose not.” she sighed, sipping her beverage delicately.

“I'm surprised Mr. Kirkland isn't here, keeping you to himself like the greedy beast he is.” Ivan noted, making several men around him flinch and retreat further. Arthur Kirkland was known for dissolving people in acid after all.

“He's very busy with work tonight.” she replied tightly, shifting uncomfortably. 

It was just a second, but enough for the classically trained killer to notice details. How nervous she seemed, the slightest shake as she picked up her glass. Despite her many layers, a faint edge of a new bruise was peeking over the edge of her dress. It was faint pink, perched right at the base of her neck. Ivan knew those types of marks intimately, having inflicted them before.

Someone had tried to strangle or subdue the freckled darling, not even an hour ago. How interesting.

“When we finish these, perhaps you would like to go for a walk? Soothe your troubles away?” Ivan offered boldly, lighting yet another cigarette. He offered it to the charming damsel before him with a slight gesture.

She hesitated ever so slightly, then accepted the smoke. “Perhaps, though I doubt your brand of comfort can help me, Mr. Braginsky.” Lady Jones countered, blunt yet charming. It was hard to take anything she said offensively when she was so damn pretty. Ivan supposed that's how the calculating Arthur Kirkland was won over years prior.

“So you know of my craft?” he asked, genuinely surprised. Ivan had only been in the United States of America for five years, fleeing the fallout of the Russian revolution. His royally trained skills as a man hunter and assassin were a steady source of employment, regardless of country or decade.

“The Russian angel of death is a title one earns, I assure you.” Lady Jones replied with a playful smirk. Admittedly, Ivan melted a little inside at the compliment.

After exchanging small talk and trying to remain calm, Ivan was walking with Lady Jones down the dark streets of Chicago. The entire street seemed to clear wherever they travelled. Whispers rippled from afar, caused by the wake of fear the woman stirred with every movement. Ivan found it entrancing, how much power she wielded due purely by association.

Ivan noticed after a time that they were wandering. He knew exactly where every boss in the city lived, and the pair was far outside Kirkland turf. “Perhaps if you are lost, we can head to my place?” he proposed hopefully. Ivan could only imagine how great she could be in bed, and wouldn't that drive her English master just crazy? It could be so fun to stir up chaos.

“I'm not lost. I simply have no where to go.” she explained, voice wavering. Ivan paused, confused. “But certainly Mr. Kirkland –” he began, only to be interrupted. “Mr. Kirkland is dead.” Lady Jones growled, losing her demure composure. She wore a conflicted expression of grief and rage.

“I'm so sorry for your loss. Unexpected change is the very nature of work like ours.” Ivan offered sincerely, taking his cloth hat in his hands. In all honesty, Kirkland had been a bastard to work for, and Ivan dreamed of killing him for years. He was morose for the woman's distress more than anything.

“It wasn't... He...” the woman stammered, clearly struggling with the topic. Ivan waited patiently for her to form a proper sentence. He was curious as to what top gangster had the balls to finally do that miserable animal in. Working for a guy that cocky could be fun.

“He tried to... hold me down... and... He tried...” Lady Jones cried, a few actual tears beginning to form. Ivan offered a handkerchief silently, still not understanding. She took it, dabbing her eyes before her make up smudged. After a big breath, she continued more clearly, “So... I had to do it. I killed him before he tried... to... take advantage.”

Ivan stood stunned, gripping his hat tighter. He had only met three other women in his whole life that had killed, and only one had been trained to do so. It was a rare gem to be sure. He was surprised Kirkland was bestial enough to try and rape his own lady. Her reaction was even more interesting, for the woman's words didn't hold a shred of guilt.

Lady Jones was perfect, a fresh rose with thorns as sharp as her wit.

Ivan took her hand in consolation, unable to stop a joyous smile. “What you did with the body?” he inquired excitedly. “It's still there. I didn't know... Maybe if I could find someone to help at the bar. I don't know.” she admitted weakly, still very upset.

“Fear not Lady Jones, I will take care of it, and you, should you let me.” Ivan volunteered suddenly, surprising himself. Women like her just drove him beyond the edge of reason. Passion coupled with the willingness to kill was just too much.

“It's Amelia, and I'd like to see you try.” she countered, her tears starting to dry as she dabbed them away. Finally, she gave a true smile for the first time all evening. It was to kill for, completely entrancing Ivan's cold shattered heart.

“Challenge excepted, Amelia.” he promised happily.

**Author's Note:**

> Like what you read? Say something or leave a kudos!


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